


Lonely Star

by paperbackfetish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Implied/Referenced Torture, Second War with Voldemort, Veela Draco Malfoy, more like enemies to friends to enemies to friends again and finally lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27279469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperbackfetish/pseuds/paperbackfetish
Summary: Draco Malfoy has known Hermione Granger  was his mate since 6th year, and he never expected her to end up his family's prisoner.Hermione Granger never expected to be captured and become a prisoner at Malfoy Manor, but here she was.Draco desperately fought his veela side, ignoring all its requests to escape with Hermione and leave the war. Instead, he kept denying himself what he really wanted. Hermione, on the hand, couldn't help but ignore these feelings she was starting to develop for Draco the time she spent prisoner.  He was the enemy, and yet he was making it impossible for her to see him in that way.Things escalate when Draco ends up falling in love with her.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46





	1. Prologue

_ Hermione _

The snatchers had come out of nowhere, and Hermione barely had enough time to jinx Harry's face into something unrecognizable. Unfortunately, they didn't have time to Disapparate or hide some of their stuff. As they stepped out of the tent, she knew the Snatchers had them surrounded, and there was no chance for them to attempt an escape.

They huddled together, entire bodies tense, wands in their hands. It was dark outside, making it hard to see. Someone whispered  _ Lumos  _ off to the side, and they all winced at the bright light.

"Drop your wands," someone growled.

Hermione instantly recognized Greyback standing across from there, one hand in his coat pocket and the other holding his wand. He looked bored as if he couldn't be bothered by them, but when his eyes met Hermione's, his mouth formed a leering grin.

He stepped towards her, and she instinctively took a small step back, bumping into Ron. She felt his arm move to her shoulder, and Greyback let out a growl.

"I said  _ drop your wands _ and don't  _ move _ ."

They obeyed, their wands falling quietly onto the ground. Greyback glanced down briefly, a terrifying grin on his face, before snapping his eyes back to Hermione's. He took another step forward, Hermione's body frozen in fear, but she refused to back down. She glared back, Greyback's eyes dark and glinting with malice. He leaned forward, nose rubbing against Hermione's jaw as he inhaled loudly.

"Delicious girl... what a treat... I do enjoy the softness of skin," he rasped, pushing against her throat. Hermione shivered in disgust. His voice was raspy, and it felt like it was rubbing across her skin like sandpaper. Ron, bless him, yelled, "Get away from her!"

Greyback stood up straight, his eyes narrowing. He pushed Hermione out of the way, her small yelp of pain going unnoticed as Greyback shook his arm and punched Ron in the face. There was a cracking noise followed by a thud as Ron's body hit the ground. Harry tried to fight back, but there was another thud as he also landed on the ground. Hermione pushed herself up, turning around and watching helplessly as the other Snatchers moved in and tied their hands behind their back. Hermione frantically searched for her hand, but someone was on her, bounding her and pushing her towards her friends.

"Keep your mouth shut, boy!" Greyback yelled. "Another move or sound, and I won't hesitate to kill you all on the spot."

Hermione felt a sob in her throat, but she took a deep breath, calming herself and concentrating on trying to form an escape plan. They were surrounded, and she was positive that even if they tried to Disapparate, they never discussed where they would, and she doubted anyone was in the right state of mind to properly concentrate. Their wands had been picked up by one of the men, and even she wasn't skilled enough to cast a wandless spell, much less a nonverbal one.

There was another  _ Lumos  _ spoken, the light around them brighter and making it easier to see. Greyback clapped his hands, voice loud as he spoke. 

"Alright then, who do we have here?"

Someone's wand shown over all of them one by one, and Greyback inhaled sharply when the light illuminated Harry.

"Woah, what happened to you ugly?"

Harry stayed quiet, his eyes flashing with anger as he stared down Greyback. Greyback, on the other hand, looked annoyed.

"I won't ask again," he threatened, aiming a punch directly into Harry's stomach. Harry groaned out in pain, but he didn't seem to care anymore. He spat blood at Greyback's feet. Hermione winced.

"Stung," Harry finally replied.

"What's your name?"

"Dudley. Vernon Dudley."

Greyback turned to Ron next.

"And you?"

"Bardy Weadley," Ron said, his busted face making it difficult to pronounce his words.

"Related to those blood traitors then? A shame. And you, pretty?"

Hermione's skin crawled, but she ignored the pet name, forcefully clearing her throat to speak.

"Penelope Clearwater."

"Penelope? That's a pretty name, Ms. Clearwater. What's a pretty thing like you traveling with these two?"

Hermione hesitated slightly. She wasn't expecting Greyback to question her directly. She was about to answer, a lie on the tip of her tongue when one of the other Snatchers exclaimed, "Look what I found in the paper!"

He raised the paper to the light, and on the front page was a picture of Hermione that took up the majority of the space. Greyback grinned, turning from the paper to Hermione. He snatched the paper, crouching in front of her and pushing it in her face.

"Looks an awful lot like you, Ms. Clearwater. Better hope you're not lying to me."

Alarm bells rang in Hermione's head, and there wasn't enough time to deny the accusation. Her mouth moved before her mind could catch up.

"T— That isn't me!" Hermione squeaked, and she knew their cover officially collapsed. Her voice was a dead giveaway, and Greyback knew that. He laughed; the sound oddly high-pitched.

"Well then, gentlemen. It seems as if we got lucky today. If you're the Mudblood, then you must be Weasley, and you, Vernon, must be Potter. Where are your glasses, boy?"

Someone from behind them shouted in glee.

"I found glasses in the tent, boss!" he shouted as he waved the aforementioned object around. "Found them in the tent?"

"Well, well, well," Greyback chuckled. "This  _ does  _ change things, doesn't it? We can't take them to the Ministry anymore, my friends. They'll take all the glory."

He pretended to ponder the situation, one brow raised and a hand on his chin.

"I believe we'll take them directly to the Dark Lord. I'm sure he'll reward us handsomely."

There was a murmur of agreement throughout the group. Someone hesitantly spoke up.

"Um, should we double-check?" they stammered.

Greyback lashed out at the poor person (whoever he was), his wand jabbing into their chest as he  _ stupefied  _ them.

"Who the fuck is in charge here? If I say it's Potter, then it's fucking  _ Potter _ !" __ He roared, the other Snatchers shrinking back in fear. "Does anyone else want to question my fucking authority?"

No one said a word, and Greyback continued.

"We'll summon the Dark Lord, but not here. We're taking this lot back to Malfoy Manor."

It was painfully obvious that Greyback didn't have the honor to bear Voldemort's mark. He was a weapon, only called upon when it was convenient for the Death Eaters to use him, and that would wound anyone's pride.

"Grab one, and on the count of three."

They Disapparated, and Hermione could feel Harry and Ron struggling around her. It was no use. They were tightly bound, and their chance of escaping was incredibly low. They had no choice but to submit to their kidnappers. A few seconds later, they arrived on a country road, the area quiet and deserted.

The silence was eerie. The only sound was a group of crows cawing in the distance and the wind slightly blowing around them. It was oddly foggy as well, and Hermione felt the iciness of the cold deep in her bones. In the near distance, a giant gate rose from the ground. Hermione didn't have to guess that it was Malfoy Manor.

Greyback lead the group towards the said gate, the gate itself growing taller and even more ominous as they got closer. The gates were impressive up close, and the front yard by itself was magnificent.

At least, it might have been before the war started.

It was obvious Malfoy Manor was also suffering from the war. The yard's garden was barren, the grass dead and brown in some areas, patches of dry dirt in some places. The trees were just a bunch of withering branches, and none of the flowers were in bloom, just a bush filled with dead leaves. The place seemed so depressing, and there was a trace of dark energy surrounding the entire property. Hermione shivered at the thought of having to live there.

"How do we get— Oh shit!"

Before the Snatcher could finish his question, the gate in front of them started to move. The metal creaked and clanged loudly, contorting itself into a grotesque face.

"State your purpose!" If the face was horrible, the voice was even worse. It was loud and terrifying, but Greyback seemed to be the only person unfazed.

"We caught Potter!" he roared triumphantly.

The gates swung open, and the Snatchers roughly pushed them inside. It was hard to walk while tied to three other people, and it proved to be even more difficult when Harry stumbled at some point. He quickly righted himself up, but the men didn't seem to care, only forcing him to move forward. Hermione set a blank stare on her face, staring straight ahead.

Narcissa Malfoy greeted them at the front door, and the sudden bright lights coming from the foyer momentarily blinded Hermione. She scrunched up her face, squinting and then blinking rapidly to get her eyes to focus.

They followed a few steps behind Greyback and Narcissa, both of them walking in tense silence. A long hallway followed the foyer, huge and tastefully decorated. The halls were a brilliant white, and there were a few end tables with flowers and the occasional picture frames. On the ceiling, giant chandeliers hung and sparked in the light.

Narcissa led them to what Hermione assumed to be the drawing-room. She winced as they were pushed onto their knees. Across the room, two chairs were positioned in front of the fireplaces. Two people sat in those chairs, and one of them turned around.

"What's this?"

Hermione instantly recognized Lucius's voice.

"They say they've got Potter," came Narcissa's reply, her voice neutral. She motioned towards the other figure in the chair. "Draco, come here."

Draco Malfoy rose from his seat, and Hermione found it hard to believe the boy approaching them was the Malfoy she knew. She hadn't seen him in a couple of years (save for the occasional glances during their sixth year), but it was painfully obvious he wasn't the same person he was years ago.

He was oddly pale in a sickly sort of way, the dark circles under his eyes prominent. His eyes looked slightly sunken in and lifeless, and his cheekbones looked way too sharp as if he had lost weight rapidly. He looked  _ frail _ , a term she never thought she would use to describe Malfoy. The all-black suit seemed to emphasize his dreary state.

He slowly approached them, and Hermione noted how he only stared at the floor as if refusing to make eye contact. Even when he stopped in front of Harry, Malfoy refused to look up, his eyes settling on Harry's tied hands instead.

"Well? Is it?" Lucius pressed.

There was an awkward pause as Malfoy barely glanced up at Harry. Malfoy cleared his throat.

"I can't— I can't tell."

Lucius walked towards them, pushing Malfoy out of the way. His eyes darted between the three of them for a few seconds, his cane tightly held in his grip. His eyes narrowed as they stopped on Harry.

"There!" he exclaimed, clutching Harry's hair in his hand as he forcibly tugged Harry's head back. "On his forehead. Could it be the scar?"

Harry's face contorted into one of pain, his eyes scrunched up and his mouth open in a silent moan. Draco warily approached Lucius and Harry, his walk slow and deliberate as if he didn't want to get within five feet of them. Like before, he barely glanced at Harry.

"I don't know," he muttered. "Maybe."

Malfoy turned to walk back to his mother, Hermione staring after him. She watched his retreating figure, her eyes boring into the back of his head. If he felt her eyes on him, he didn't show any sign. He was as stiff as a board, his shoulders pulled back, and his hands curled into fists on his side. He stood beside his mother, who was watching the entire interaction, and she gently patted his shoulder.

For the briefest moment, so quick that Hermione thought she might have imagined it, she and Malfoy made eye contact across the room. His eyes were grey, a grey so bleak and dull they seemed lifeless. He held the contact, and she watched as his pupils slightly dilated. She swore she felt something tug at her heart, but then he blinked, and the imaginary connection between them dissolved.

Lucius let out a growl of annoyance, letting Harry go and standing up abruptly to face his wife and his son.

"We have to be completely sure before we summon him."

"I know," Narcissa nodded.

"What about the Mudblood?" Greyback asked, pointing at Hermione. He had been so quiet for the past few minutes that she almost forgot about him.

Narcissa turned to face Hermione, her eyes scanning her face, and then her eyes widened in recognition.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, snapping her fingers. "I recognize her from the shop. Yes, that must be her! Right, Draco?"

There was a brief moment of excitement in her voice, but it disappeared as she composed herself. Draco, on the other hand, nodded mutely. He stood so still, almost as if he were a statue decorating the drawing-room. Narcissa continued, "We have to alert the Dark Lord, Lucius! This must be Potter and his friends!"

Lucius nodded wildly in agreement.

"Imagine the reward, Cissa! Maybe he'll forgive us, and we can go back to the way things were. The Malfoys will be respected once again!"

Greyback cleared his throat, stepping forward and in front of Lucius. They were chest to chest, and the height difference was almost comical. There was a threatening glint in the werewolf's eyes, a small frown on his face.

"Now, Malfoy, let's not forget who caught them in the first place," he growled lowly. Lucius narrowed his eyes, one hand slowly trailing down the cane in his hand, and Hermione remembered it was where he kept his wand. Before Lucius could pull anything, the door to the drawing-room slammed open. The sound of heels clicking against the wooden floors was loud in the tense silence, and Hermione jumped at the shrill voice suddenly speaking.

"What is going on here?" asked Bellatrix, one eyebrow raised questioningly. She looked around the room. Her sister and nephew stood in front of the fireplace, and Lucius and Greyback stood in front of each other. There were threatening looks on both their faces and at their feet, a few bodies tied up.

It was Lucius who spoke, stepping away from Greyback.

"We caught Potter!"

Bellatrix's shriek of delight startled Hermione.

"Oh? We must inform the Dark Lord!"

"I'll do it," hissed Lucius, pulling back his jacket sleeve and revealing the mark on his arm. He released his wand, almost about to touch it when Bellatrix let out another scream.

"What is that?" she screeched, rushing forward and pointing her wand at the Snatcher holding Hermione's bag. Hermione stared as well, her eyes falling onto the sword of Gryffindor, its hilt sticking out slightly.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

" _ Where did you get it _ ?"

"What? The sword?" mumbled the Snatcher. He pulled it out, dropping Hermione's bag on the floor and swinging the sword around. "It was in the Mudblood's bag. Reckon it's mine now. Must be worth a lot."

Bellatrix let out a frustrating yelled, and a red light whizzed past Hermione's face. The man let out a yelp of pain and collapsed onto the floor, the sword falling from his grip. Bellatrix approached it, grabbing the sword and gingerly checking it. She turned around, her eyes landing on Hermione, and a rush of fear went through her.

The sword was at her throat the next moment, and Hermione didn't dare to breathe.

"This sword is meant to be in my vault at Gringotts!  _ Where did you get it _ ?" she hissed. Hermione could only shake her head, bursting into tears.

Bellatrix switched the sword with her wand, the tip of it digging into the soft skin of her throat.

"Where did you get the sword?" Bellatrix repeated in a low voice.

"We found it!" Hermione whispered. That seemed to anger Bellatrix more, and she promptly shouted, "Stupefy, stupefy, stupefy!"

Hermione watched as the men surrounding collapsed on the floor. Narcissa and Malfoy only stared at them, and Lucius clenched his jaw. Greyback, at the least, seemed unnerved.

"Liar!" Bellatrix yelled, and Hermione flinched. "You snuck into my vault! You and your little friends  _ snuck into my vault _ ! How did you do it?"

"We didn't, I swear," sobbed Hermione. "We found it in the forest!"

Bellatrix hissed at her, her dark eyes narrowing. Hermione tensed and squeezed her eyes shut, preparing herself to get hit with a spell. It never came. Hermione cracked one eye open, looking at Bellatrix who had turned her attention to Ron and Harry. She continued to stare at them, contemplating what to do when she smiled. It was a complete 360 of how she was acting before.

"Take them to the cellar!" she sung. "The Mudblood is staying up here with me. We're going to have a little fun!"

Greyback took care of the task, grabbing Ron and Harry by their necks. They started to protest and flailing around, but Greyback hardly noticed. Ron kicked and yelled the entire way, pleading to be switched with Hermione, but Bellatrix ignored him. Their yells became faint the farther they were dragged away until it became quiet once again.

Bellatrix cackled, turning her attention back on Hermione and standing in front of her. She crouched to her level, the wild look in her eyes more menacing than ever before. Her hand shot out, gripping Hermione's jaw and bringing their classes as close as possible.

"Well, Mudblood, speak! How did you get the sword?"

Her nails were digging into Hermione's skin, and it was difficult to speak. She whimpered in pain.

"I asked you a question."

Bellatrix's hand felt as if it was crushing the very bone, but Hermione stilled herself and swallowed.

"We found it! I swear!"

" _ I don't believe you _ ! A little  _ Crucio  _ ought to loosen your tongue!"

"No, please—"

Bellatrix pointed her wand to Hermione, shouting, "Crucio!" loudly.

The pain was intense, so much worse than anything Hermione experienced. Her entire body felt as if it were on fire, but no heat nor flames were licking at her skin. It felt white-hot, like when jumping into a pool of icy water except the feeling stayed longer.

She screamed.

It was the only thing she could do.

—

_ Draco _

Ever since the Dark Lord had turned his home into a war base, the atmosphere had completely changed. It didn't feel like home anymore.

(If he was being brutally honest, it never did feel like home. His parents were either absent, too busy, and Draco was only there for a few months every year because of school. That family vibe was never a thing with them, even during the holidays.)

Regardless, there was still a significant difference in the atmosphere. The manor felt cold, freezing sometimes, and there was always lingering darkness after Voldemort came and went. It never went away, and at some point, Draco entertained the idea that Voldemort might have set some surveillance spells. Even the library, his favorite place, had been affected as well. The bookshelves looked too tall, too big, surrounding him and making him feel small.

Maybe he  _ was  _ small, and that made him feel inferior, a feeling he had never thought he would experience.

Aside from the manor feeling off, he also felt off.

Maybe the environment was affecting him negatively, or maybe it was his new veela nature.

-

Sixth year had been a wild ride from start to finish. For one, he had become a Death Eater, and at the time, it sounded amazing. It took him about a month into the school year to realize he had made a huge mistake.

Voldemort was constantly looking into his mind, urging him to get his mission over before he killed his parents. Draco only asked for more time, claiming it was never a perfect moment, or that he couldn't kill Dumbledore because someone else ruined his plans. Then, he demanded Draco to find a way to sneak the Death Eaters into the school. At that point, Draco almost refused, making a split-second decision to just run away, but he knew he couldn't.

It was suicide.

Fixing the Vanishing Cabinet was grueling work. He dedicated almost all his time to it, sometimes not even bothering to do his schoolwork. He tried to not make it obvious, but he clearly didn't do a good enough job considering that Potter had caught onto him. Snape had even cornered him, but Draco had stood up to him, and it ended in a verbal fight between them.

Snape was patronizing him. It was obvious he didn't think Draco was capable of carrying out his task, but he would prove him wrong. If Draco was being honest, he had only lashed out because Snape had a point. He couldn't kill Dumbledore no matter how many times he tried, and a subconscious part of him quietly whispered that he was hoping none of his attempts ever worked. In the end, he didn't have to worry about it either way.

Of course, the Death Eater tasks weren't the only thing occupying his mind.

The entire year he was trying to come to terms with his veela nature.

He had gone through the transformation over the summer, and the only warning he got was a painful headache before he had collapsed during dinner. He had known about his veela heritage since he was young, but he never thought that the actual transformation was going to hit him out of nowhere.

He was bedridden for a few days, his body trying to get used to the transformation, but it had been easy. However, his mind was going through it. He couldn't explain it, but it was as if his mind was split into two. One side was his own conscience, the little voice in his head that he had always had. On the other side, it was a new voice, but it was completely different from his own.

It was like having a restless animal within him, and he had no idea how to tame it.

He carried both these parts in him for all of sixth year, and that second half made things difficult. It was as if it knew how he really felt, more than his own subconscious. It wasn't like having Voldemort in his head, but more of like an alter ego. Draco figured it had to be his veela side, and even now, he had yet to get used to it.

So, while he was trying to fix a cabinet and figure out a way to murder the most powerful wizard in their world, he was at two wars with himself.

First, it was him versus himself, and second, it was him versus his veela half.

The fights were never-ending, and they kept him up at night. The worst part was how the veela loved to visit him in his dreams. He hadn't had a good night's rest in ages now, but he couldn't figure out what he had to do to get rid of it.

Maybe he would have to live with it until the end of his days.

-

Finding out Hermione  _ fucking  _ Granger was his fucking  _ mate _ gave him whiplash.

He blamed that oaf Slughorn.

It had been an okay day so far. He ate breakfast, argued with his veela, who he decided to call Vee just because it made things easier, and then walked to potions. Nothing could have prepared him for the overwhelming scent of Amortentia that invaded his nose.

Granted, he had always had a sensitive nose, but the stupid transformation improved his sense of smell.

The potion assaulted his senses, and he had to tuck his nose into his collar to breathe correctly. He took his seat, and then spaced out. At some point, Slughorn forced everyone to stand around the table with three cauldrons, and he asked for them to identify them.

Of course, Potter and Weasley just had to interrupt the class. After their distraction, Slughorn drew their attention back to the potions. Of course, Granger was the one to correctly identify all three of them. When she got to the Amortentia, Draco found himself interested in what she had to stay. He straightened up slightly, peering over to watch more closely. Pansy gently nudged him, a questioning look on her face, but Draco ignored her.

Granger was explaining what the potion did and how no one knew what it smelled like. Then, she sniffed it, and Vee perked up. Draco watched closely, and suddenly there was a buzzing sound in his ears are Granger started to speak.

_ "For example, I smell mint, lemongrass, and... fresh parchment." _

Draco noted the flush on her neck, and he mentally slapped himself. The fuck was he doing thinking about her blushing. He shook his head, clearing his mind. Potions continued on as usual. Draco brewed his Draught of Living Death as close to perfection as possible; he needed the Felix Felicis.

At the end of the class, Potter somehow managed to brew it perfectly, and he won the tiny bottle of liquid luck. He must have cheated; Potter was no potions prodigy. As everyone packed up for their next class, Draco couldn't help but glance at the love potion on Slughorn's desk. He hated to admit it, but he was curious to know what it smelled like for him.

Slughorn excused himself to go to the loo, and everyone exited the class. Pansy stayed behind for a bit, but Draco shooed her off. Once he was completely alone, he slowly approached Slughorn's desk. He peered down into the pearly liquid, the steam swirling around the top. He bent over, taking the smallest sniff, and it felt as if his mind cleared for just the briefest moment.

The world around him melted away, leaving just him and the scent from the potion. It enveloped him like a warm cocoon, his head feeling lightweight and his body feeling fuzzy.

_ Vanilla, peppermint, and books. _

He inhaled sharply, opening his eyes, and he found himself back in the potions class. He felt as if he was floating, and even Vee had shut up, his mind at peace.

_ Holy shit. _

He jumped when he heard a knock on the door, and he turned to look, spotting Granger staring back at him. She cleared her throat.

"Malfoy," she nodded. She pushed the door open and walked in, walking to her seat and picking up the book she had left behind. Draco was already leaving, half of his body through the door when he heard a small yelp from behind him. He moved before his mind could process what was going on, Granger's small body in his arms as he rushed over to catch her before she fell. They fell to the floor together like some stupid moment from a romance, Draco cushioning the majority of the fall.

It was as if the gods were playing a cruel joke on him. First, his veela genetics, and two, his fucking sense of smell.

He breathed in sharply, and the peppermint and vanilla clouded his senses again.

_ Holy fuck. _

_ - _

Draco was positive he had scrubbed his arm raw too many times already. He couldn't help himself. Was it a form of self-harm? Maybe. But he didn't care. He was fucking done with everything. He spent about an hour in the shower. The hot water felt nice against his skin, and it was the only time he had an actual sense of privacy. He was free to do whatever, and if crying was that said whatever, well, that was between him and Vee.

He cried a lot these days. Maybe once a day if he was lucky, three times if some days proved to be more difficult than others. It was the only time he felt any kind of emotion.

At this point, he was numb.

Draco rinsed himself one final time before he got out of the shower, quickly changing into his clothes. He settled back into his bed, book in hand, and turned to his bookmarked page when there was a yell from downstairs.

His father.

Draco exhaled slowly, annoyed, but he put on his shoes and went downstairs to the drawing-room.

"We have guests," Lucius stated cryptically, staring into the fireplace.

"Who?"

Draco knew the answer to the question already. After all, he had felt her presence the moment she arrived on the property.

-

It was an odd feeling to be staring down at your mate who was currently a prisoner in your family's home. It didn't help anyone when his mother had asked Draco to get close to Granger and confirm it was indeed her. He couldn't even bring himself to make eye contact because he was scared that one look into her eyes, and he would snap.

Somehow, he still managed to make eye contact with Granger for the slightest second, and he couldn't bring himself to look away. Time slowed down for both of them as they just stared at each other. Draco felt the connection between them light up, and Vee almost managed to take over, but he pushed it away and blinked. The connection dissolved, and Draco couldn't help but feel slight guilt build up in him. He prayed no one had noticed. The last thing he wanted was his parents finding out that Granger was his mate. He had no idea how they would react, but he knew it wouldn't be a good reaction whatsoever.

The situation escalated when Aunt Bellatrix came and screwed everything up. The veela side of him, the side he usually ignored because it did everything that was the complete opposite of what  _ he  _ wanted to do, wanted to reach out and draw his wand out, cursing his aunt one hundred ways into next week.

_ But he couldn't. _

He had sworn his life to the Dark Lord, and no Mudblood was going to change his mindset.

So, while his aunt tortured his mate in front of him, he was internally struggling with reigning Vee back. Granted, a small part of Draco had to agree with Vee. He had the power to stop this and just run away with Granger, somewhere far where no one would find them, away from this stupid war.

_ But he fucking couldn't. _

Still, his hands itched to do something. Granger's screams pierced his ears and made his brain feel fuzzy. He clenched his jaw, one hand already curled into a fist, his nails digging into his palm, but he forced himself to stay still. He'd be betraying everything he stood for, and his family had already suffered enough as it was.

" _ Crucio! _ "

He knew how it felt to be tortured, had felt it enough times to understand that he never wanted to experience that again.

Granger's screams only grew louder, and his head felt like it was splitting in two. She kept pleading that she didn't know about the sword in the vault, that they had found it in the forest, but his aunt was stubborn and wouldn't listen.

He was at war with himself, and a part of his  _ heart _ ached as Granger twitched on the floor.

The words slipped out.

_ "Stop!" _

That shouldn't have been him. That  _ wasn't  _ him, but it was, and it had slipped out before his brain processed what exactly was going on.

Bellatrix immediately stopped, a murderous look on her face as she turned around to face whoever had dared to interrupt her.

" _ Draco? _ "

The lies slipped out effortlessly.

"She's not going to budge. She's stubborn, and I believe her."

_ What the fuck was he saying? _

He wondered why he was still questioning himself. He knew damn well what he was saying.

"Let's—"

He hesitated.

"Let's use her against Potter and keep her hostage. Potter won't budge until Granger is safe, and he'll do anything to get her back. We got lucky by capturing Potter once, so let's take advantage of the situation."

He refused to even glance at the girl on the floor, his eyes staring into his aunt's. Bellatrix seemed to process his words for a moment, eyes glaring back at him. She smiled wickedly.

"Very well, Draco. I'll hold you to that."

She kicked Granger, a small yelp of pain coming out. Draco's jaw clenched, but he didn't move. Bellatrix walked out, her hand waving dismissively.

Draco exhaled, heart pounding in his chest.

"Explain that boy," drawled Lucius, coming up and digging his hand into Draco's hair.

"We can brainwash her, use her against the Order and take them down from the inside. No one would suspect a thing," he muttered. Lucius' grip softened, and he let Draco go, patting his shoulder.

"I'm impressed, Draco. Cissa, help our new  _ guest  _ settle in."

Narcissa nodded, snapping her fingers. A little house elf immediately apparated in, bowing so low its nose touched the floor.

"Take Ms. Granger to one of our guest rooms. She will be our honored guest for the next few weeks."

"Yes, Mistress," squeaked the tiny thing.

It stood upright, carefully approaching Granger's body and snapping its fingers, her body levitating off the ground. It snapped again, and they were gone.

It was quiet for a moment, and Draco finally exhaled, barely realizing had been holding his breath.

"Am I excused, Father?" Draco finally asked, not turning around to look at Lucius.

"Yes. We'll pay Ms. Granger a visit later tonight."


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are some flashbacks that are in no particular order !!
> 
> aside from that, please enjoy !

_Hermione_

For a second, Hermione thought she was back in her tent with Harry and Ron. Maybe she had dreamt the Snatchers had caught them, and if she opened her eyes should be back in the warmth of their tent. The trees would be rustling outside in the morning breeze, the birds would start singing to signal a new day, and she would hear the sound of the pan sizzling as Harry started breakfast. Instead of Ron’s snores somewhere to her right, it was eerily silent, and that should have been her first warning sign. 

Hermione tried to open her eyes, but the pain that came with it almost paralyzed her. Her eyes felt like they had been glued shut, and they burned as if someone had stabbed her repeatedly. If it hadn’t been for her fuzzy vision, she wouldn’t have been surprised at all. It hurt to adjust her eyes as she blinked rapidly, but she pushed through the pain. She needed to see her surroundings and develop her next plan of action.

The ornate canopy directly above her was the first thing she noticed when her eyes finally focused. There were some pillows and a nightstand in her periphery vision, and directly in front of her was a giant marble fireplace. 

This was definitely not her tent. 

She made a move to get up, slightly shifting her arm and _holy fuck._

An intense throbbing sensation traveled over her entire body. Her stomach felt like someone had punched her gut, and she could feel the muscles in her abdomen spasming in pain. Her eyes welled with new tears, and she felt bile rise in her throat, but she willed herself to push it back down. Now wasn’t the time for this. She needed to escape, and maybe then she would allow herself to feel sick and cry. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, and the pain slowly ebbed away. However, she had no interest in moving around anymore. 

Last night hadn’t been some kind of fever dream or hallucination. They had, in fact, been captured by the Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. She had been _tortured_ Manor. She had been _tortured_ by Bellatrix, and she must’ve passed out at some point. Her head hurt from all the thoughts running around her mind, and she knew she wouldn’t get anywhere in her current state. She felt exhaustion consuming her, and she took a shallow breath, slowly closing her eyes. 

Some sleep would do her good.

-

The next time Hermione woke up, she was still in the giant bed. She was still slightly weary, but she felt better compared to the first time she woke up. Her eyes didn’t burn as much when she opened them, but her mind still felt fuzzy. She made a small attempt to move her finger, lungs and chest tight as she held her breath just in case. 

There was no jolt of pain, just an intense soreness as if she had finished an intense workout a few hours before. She proceeded to move the rest of her fingers, then her hands, and finally her arms. Aside from soreness, there was nothing more. She repeated the same process for her other arm, and then finally her legs. It was a slow process, but she was soon able to move her limbs with no issue. The next step was to sit up, and she knew that would prove difficult. 

Hermione managed it regardless, but it took her an embarrassingly long time. She sat there for a few minutes, catching her breath and stretching her arms and legs. When she regained enough mobility, she climbed out of bed. A wave of dizziness hit her as she stood upright, and she grabbed the nightstand, waiting for the feeling to go away. She took a steadying breath, and then finally allowed herself to take in her surroundings. 

She was in a bedroom, grand and luxurious. There was a bench at the foot of the bed, the fireplace took up a majority of the wall in front of the bed, and there was a small sitting area in the corner of the room. A dresser and vanity table was off to the side, and there was another nightstand on the other side of the bed. The left wall had two floor-to-ceiling windows that connected to a balcony outside. The curtains were made of transparent white fabric, and she noticed it was dark out. The stars twinkling against the midnight blue of the sky, but she couldn’t see the moon anywhere.

She took a small step forward, letting herself get back into the balance of walking. Her legs wobbled, and her thighs burned with exertion, but she forced herself to ignore the pain. She needed to escape. 

_Her wand._

She patted her body frantically, but she knew that her wand wouldn’t be on her. She let herself be hopeful regardless. It was silly, but right now, hope was the one thing that was motivating her. She looked on the bed, under the pillows, under the sheets _just in case._ There was nothing.

She had no wand, and she knew the door and windows were locked. 

There was no way for her to escape, and the reality of the situation was slowly starting to sink in. 

-

Hermione didn’t know how long she sat on the bed staring at the wall, but it must have been hours. The sun was starting to rise outside, the soft morning light slowly streaming into the room. It filled the room with a warm glow, but it was a great contrast compared to the icy atmosphere. She was dying of hunger; it must have been at least 48 hours since she ate. 

When the sun was a good distance above the horizon, a knock came from the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She tensed her muscles, sitting up straight and getting ready to spring into action, wand or no wand. Before she could formulate a response, the door opened. A tiny house-elf walked in and bowed in front of her. 

“Mistress Granger, Master and Mistress Malfoy are coming up,” the elf squeaked. 

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she had no idea how to react. She nodded silently instead, and the elf bowed again and excused himself. The door shut behind him, and Hermione exhaled sharply. The last thing she needed was to see the Malfoys, and she knew an escape would be futile. 

The door opened again without warning, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy walked in. They had been one of the richest and powerful families in the wizarding world, but they looked so different now. Hermione had only interacted with the Malfoys a few times, but it was never for a long time. There were some brief moments, like when she first met Lucius in Flourish and Blotts so long ago, but that was about it. She never met Narcissa before, but she would occasionally spot her at the end of the year at the train station. 

They looked proud before, but now, in person and in front of her, they looked so somber. It was obvious that Lucius hadn’t shaved in weeks if his stubble was anything to go buy. His hair was all greasy, and the bags under his eyes were an awful dark color. Narcissa wasn’t faring off any better, but compared to her husband, she looked just slightly better. However, despite their rugged appearance, their presence alone overwhelmed the atmosphere of the room.

Draco walked in behind them, keeping a small distance between himself and his parents. Hermione’s addled mind recalled his appearance when her group had been captured, and like before, he kept his eyes lowered to the ground. 

The Malfoys stopped a couple of yards in front of her, and she stared down at their feet. However, she thought better than this. She was Hermione Granger, and she wasn’t afraid of any Death Eaters after everything she had been through. She squared her shoulders and looked up, glaring directly at Lucius. 

“Let me go.”

Lucius stared right back at her, eyes filled with mirth and a small smirk on his face. Draco resembled him so much it was almost scary. 

He smiled. 

“A pleasure to meet you again, Ms. Granger,” he stated. “A shame we had to meet under these circumstances.”

“And you had expected us to meet under better circumstances?”

“Fate is a funny thing, Ms. Granger. Regarding your earlier statement, I’m afraid I can’t let you go.”

“The Order won’t let you keep me prisoner.”

Lucius didn’t seem concerned whatsoever. Instead, he just chuckled. 

“You’re not a prisoner, Ms. Granger. You’re our guest, and I believe you’re going to be a valuable asset to our side.”

—

_Week One_

Hermione had lost track of how many days she had been held prisoner, but she was positive it was still the first week. Her experience, to put it simply, had been odd so far. For one, the house-elves treated her with respect. It was always “Miss Granger” and nothing else. She half expected the elves to refer to her as a dirty Mudblood like Kreacher, but they never did. (She refused to allow herself to think Malfoy was the reason.) The second odd thing was that the Malfoys kept her well-fed. The same house-elf she had met her first night would pop in to drop off her meals and then immediately leave. He never stuck around too long for her to thank him. 

Hermione refused to touch the food. She wasn’t afraid of being poisoned. Lucius’ words the first night echoed in her mind, reassuring her that the Malfoys intended to keep her alive. However, she refused to eat as a form of rebellion. It was the only thing she could do until she escaped. She had been starving for days now, but she refused to give in. She would rather die than eat food prepared by the enemy.

The last thing that didn’t stick right with her was how tired she was every night. She chalked it up to months of exhaustion finally catching up on her, but it just didn’t sound right. She _woke up_ well-rested, but by the end of the day she would knock out early and into a deep sleep as if she had been active the entire day. 

She wasn’t though. 

She had tried to stay up multiple times because she felt _guilty_ for sleeping so well. However, no matter how hard she tried to stay up, she always knocked out in the end. Maybe she was slowly going crazy and being ridiculous, but people were dying outside. Her _friends_ were fighting for their lives and hunting down Horcruxes while she lived lavishly in the enemy’s home. For fuck’s sake, she was allowed to take a _shower_ with _hot_ water. 

The guilty was overwhelming at times, and she would often cry about it in the shower. She forced herself to turn on the cold water. It grounded her, and it helped to clear her mind. She didn’t have time to feel guilty. 

She vowed to herself she would escape soon. However, there was no way for her to even form a plan without her wand; she wouldn’t get far no matter how perfect her plan was. She wished she could cast more complicated spells windlessly, but that proved to be difficult. She didn’t allow that shortcoming to deter her, and she continued to practice her wandless casting as often as she could. She had already tried _Alohamora_ on the door, but the wards to her room were too complex and strong, and she doubted a simple unlocking charm would bypass it.

All she could do right now was just wait for the right opportunity. She had already prepared phase one of her plan, but she knew it was going to be difficult. 

Hermione hoped that no one ever found out about the Unforgivable Curse she was going to use soon. 

-

Hermione drew tally marks on the headboard to keep track of how much time had passed. If her marks were correct, today was day five of being a prisoner. She had given in to hunger last night, and she hated herself for it. Her stomach had been cramping, and her body had grown considerably weak. However, she realized that if she was going to escape, she would need enough energy to run far enough and Disapparate.

She was thinking of possible ways to leave her room when the door opened. She didn’t even glance away from the wall, just muttering, “Thank you, Bitzy.”

The door closed again, and she turned to look at what today’s meal was. Her heart stopped when she saw Malfoy stood by the small bistro table. He was the last person she expected to see, and quite frankly, she had no energy to interact with him. She glared at him, then turned to face the other way.

She expected him to leave, but instead, he cleared his throat before speaking. 

“It’s time to go, Granger,” he said.

Hermione ignored him, pulling the nearest pillow into her arms and hugging it. 

“Granger, you can’t do this _every day,_ ” Malfoy stated, exasperated. 

She had no idea what he was talking about, but she gripped her pillow tighter. 

The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them.

“Why didn’t you help him?” she questioned quietly. Malfoy was silent, and she knew he was chewing his bottom lip as he tried to formulate a response. He _always_ did that when he was thinking deeply about things. She heard the table creaking under his weight, presumably leaning back against it, and then he spoke again.

“My place is here.”

_Bullshit._

Hermione sat up, hugged her knees, and glared at Malfoy.

“That’s not what you told me.”

Malfoy pursed his lips, rolling his eyes. She continued. 

“You told me that you were scared. That you _didn’t_ want to be a Death Eater. We had plans, Malfoy.”

“That was a moment of weakness,” he sneered. “I was stressed, and you happened to take pity on me.”

“It wasn’t pity. We _bonded._ We were _friends._ The Order was going to _help you._ ”

 _“I didn’t need your help!”_ he shouted. “I never _wanted_ your help, and I most certainly didn’t _need_ it. And we were most certainly not friends. I would never be friends with a _Mudblood._ Now, you either come willingly or not, I don’t care.” 

The words stung, but she knew he was lying. 

“Where are we going? Going to ask Auntie Bella to _Crucio_ me again? Going to interrogate me for information?”

Malfoy stood up, stalking forward with his wand pointed at her. 

“ _Incarcerous._ ”

Thick ropes wrapped themselves around her, and then Malfoy grabbed her arm and Disapparated them to another part of the house. The room seemed familiar, and a small portion of her mind tugged at her memory. She felt as if she had been here before, but nothing came to her mind. Malfoy roughly pushed her onto her knees, her entire body still bound. 

Lucius and Narcissa stood in front of the fireplace, their backs facing Hermione. She stared at them with blatant hatred, eyes following Malfoy as he approached them. 

“She’s here,” Malfoy murmured.

Lucius’ posture relaxed as he exhaled. He turned around, leaning forward with his hands on that horrible cane with the snakehead. He dropped his gaze downwards, smiling cheerfully. 

“Ms. Granger, it’s nice to see you again. How are you feeling?”

Hermione willed her face to go blank. She stayed quiet, just glaring up at Lucius. Lucius seemed to not notice, a smile still on his face. 

“Always quiet every time we do this. Tell me, Ms. Granger, how was your day yesterday?”

The question threw Hermione off, and she narrowed her eyes at Lucius. He must’ve been toying with her. She hated the way he asked that as if he knew something she didn’t. She never left her room; she just ate and stared at the wall for hours. 

“I was planning my escape.”

“Oh?” he questioned cheerfully. “And how’s that going? Missing anything?”

He reached into his robes, pulling out _her_ wand and waving it in front of her. Hermione couldn’t help it. She lurched forward on instinct, ignoring the ropes around her. She fell gracelessly onto the floor, but she didn’t care anymore. She heard Lucius whisper something, and she back on her knees. The ropes dug into her skin more, and her back straightened. 

“You’re meeting the Dark Lord soon, Ms. Granger, and quite frankly, I don’t like the disrespect you’re showing me. A little _Crucio_ ought to teach you some respect.”

The curse was out of his mouth right after his last sentence. It hurt just as much as the first time, and she couldn’t help but scream and thrash wildly. The ropes burned against her skin, and then it was over already. 

She lay on the floor, her chest tight and heart hammering out of it. She felt her breathing turn shallow, and she couldn’t move anymore. She heard Lucius laughing above her, and she turned to look at him. At least Narcissa and Draco had the decency to look somewhere else. 

“That all you got?” Hermione spat out. 

Lucius threw his head back and laughed.

“Ms. Granger, we’re just getting started. Draco, you can have a go next.”

—

_Sixth year_

Hermione learned a lot about Malfoy, though unwillingly, throughout her sixth year. After what had transpired in Diagon Alley, Harry’s suspicions began to grow, and now Harry was constantly obsessing over Malfoy. No matter how many times she and Ron told Harry to drop all that Death Eater nonsense, he was persistent. And so, Hermione learned some new things about a man she had never given much thought to before. Like how he would eat breakfast, but then he would either skip lunch or dinner, or some days both. (It was often the latter.) How he would disappear from the map completely sometimes, and Harry had no clue where Malfoy could be. How he seemed to fiddle with his left arm a little too much. 

It was _annoying,_ and unfortunately for everyone, Harry was a stubborn guy.

The school days passed by slowly, and things only got worse as the war with Voldemort grew closer. Hogwarts didn’t feel as safe anymore especially after Katie Bell almost died in front of them. Harry insisted it was Malfoy’s doing, and he continued to do so. Hermione’s patience only continued to thin. She wasn’t defending the enemy, but it didn’t take a genius to know Harry’s claims were just ridiculous rumors. 

—

Hermione might have been going crazy, or maybe Harry’s fixation was starting to affect her as well, but she started to notice Malfoy more often. She couldn’t help it; her eyes would sometimes _involuntarily_ glance over to the Slytherin table. Just a quick peek at Malfoy, and then she would force herself to focus on her food. However, those _glances_ slowly became more of a _stare_ , and despite herself, she found her _thoughts_ wandering to Malfoy. 

Harry had been right. Malfoy did skip meals way too often, and it was obvious. He looked skinnier, his face all gauntly and too pointy, and the eye bags under his eyes were way darker than they should be. She couldn’t help but feel bad, and she constantly squashed the overwhelming feeling to reach out to him. 

She wasn’t a monster. She was a human capable of sympathy, so it shouldn’t, _and it wasn’t_ , too weird that she was worried about Malfoy.

However, at the end of the day, Malfoy _had_ bullied her for years, and her feelings disappeared just like that.

—

Hermione was going officially crazy, and Harry was to blame. 

They were in Potions one day, and Hermione was walking back from the supply closet when she accidentally looked at Malfoy all the way in the back. He was reading the instructions, looking between the words and his cauldron. There were a few strands in front of his face, and Hermione froze when a certain epiphany came to mind. 

Draco Malfoy was fucking attractive, and honestly, that thought was way more terrifying than the time they had fought off the Death Eaters at the Ministry.

—

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were a third of the way back to Gryffindor Tower when Hermione realized her arms felt a little too light. She looked at the books in her arms, quickly counting them and realizing she had left one of her novels back in Slughorn’s classroom. She turned to Harry and Ron, letting them know she would meet them in the common room. They grabbed her textbooks and offered to go with her, but she shook her head. 

“I’ll be quick!” she said as she turned around. “Thanks!”

Hermione speed-walked back the way they had come from. When she arrived, the door was left slightly ajar, Slughorn most likely on his way lunch. She doubted anyone was inside, but she knocked regardless to announce her presence. She slipped in, surprised to find Malfoy inside. He was by Slughorn’s desk in front of the potions, and he seemed to be leaning over the Amortentia. She didn’t think much about it, and, for whatever reason that possessed her, she cleared her throat and nodded at him.

“Malfoy,” she greeted. She averted her gaze after, not waiting for his reaction. She came here to grab her book and dip, and she did just that. When she turned around, Malfoy was already on his way out. She went to exit the room, glancing at the clock, completely missing the table that seemed to materialize near her. Her foot accidentally managed to get caught in it, and then she was free-falling, letting out a yelp of fear. 

She braced herself for the impact, but then there were arms around her, a solid chest pressed against her, and that added weight pulled her forward faster. Her stomach twisted oddly, and then there was the undeniable sound of something hitting the floor. The only thing that seriously got hurt was her knees, but aside from that, she was fine. She opened her eyes, staring straight down into grey ones. 

Malfoy looked oddly flushed, his pupils dilated, and Hermione felt her face grow warmer in embarrassment. They stared at each other for a good couple of seconds, and then Hermione pushed herself up and off of him. She grabbed her book currently laying on Malfoy’s chest, and then she was apologizing quickly, the words leaving her mouth and her brain not processing _anything_. 

“ _Oh my god!_ I’m so sorry Malfoy. I swear I just glanced at the clock for the smallest fraction of a second, and then I’m falling and yet you somehow managed to catch me, and I’m still so very sorry for causing all this trouble. I think I’m fine? But wait, are _you_ okay? Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

She rambled on, and Malfoy just stared up at her from the floor. He blinked slowly like he was still processing what was happening, and then he sat up, grabbing Hermione’s arms as they frantically waved around. 

“Granger, it’s fine. You tripped, I helped you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m quite hungry, and Pansy is waiting for me.” 

Draco got up, sticking his hand out to help her as well, and then he was on his way, already gone before Hermione had the chance to thank him. 

—

Maybe blaming Harry for Hermione’s new infatuation was a bit of a stretch.

(No, she was for sure blaming Harry for _starting_ said infatuation.)

It was bad enough that she was glancing at Malfoy across the hall, but after their little post-Potions incidents, she was positive the universe was out to get her. Whether it was on purpose between either party or _purely coincidence,_ Hermione was noticing _and_ running into Malfoy way more often than before. She would spot him in between classes, at random times in the hallways, and even in the library when she was studying. Maybe he was stalking her, or maybe Hermione was just reading too much into it. 

—

Malfoy started showing up in the library. Not that Hermione noticed. She absolutely _did not_ notice him when he walked in, and when he walked around the shelves looking for whatever books he needed. 

-

He became a common occurrence when she was studying. Malfoy would come in, look around for an empty table, and then proceed to the table farthest from everyone else, usually towards the back. He would either look for books to read or bring his textbooks out to study. He didn’t look any better than the first time Harry pointed out Malfoy’s appearance, but it didn’t matter. 

She _did not care_ about Draco Malfoy. And yet, as the weeks passed by, Hermione couldn’t help but grow a sort of pity for him. He always looked _so sad_ when she would see him, and she swore on Merlin that she heard him crying once or twice. She didn’t say anything out of respect, but frankly, it started to worry her just a bit. Despite their terrible history and Malfoy being the biggest dick in existence, it was clear he was going through something. 

It was an early evening when Malfoy came in. Hermione had skipped on her regular early afternoon study session to go watch the Quidditch team tryouts, so she had no choice but to move it to later. Malfoy surprised her when he came in; she wasn’t expecting him to show up later, positive that he must’ve come at his regular time. He made his way to his usual table and set his stuff down quickly, already on his way to the shelves. 

Hermione just looked after him, and then she went back to her work. Malfoy was back quickly, a stack of books and textbooks in his arms. He set them down lightly on the table and then sat down. It was quiet inside the library. It was only her, Malfoy, and a couple of other students scattered around. Madam Pince was slowly getting ready to clean up and close down. 

Hermione finished the essay she was currently writing, and after a quick debate with herself, decided to start her next one. She was positive she could finish her rough draft by the time Madam Pince closed, so she stood up to go look for some research materials. After another split-second decision, she decided she was going to approach Malfoy. It wasn’t going to mean anything; she was just going to thank him for saving her, and then she was going to move on with her life and just never think of him ever again. 

She approached Madam Pince and asked her for some directions, and then she was on her way. It took her about ten minutes to find some books and decide which ones to use, and then she was returning to her desk. 

She gave herself the briefest pep talk.

(She was being ridiculous. This was _Malfoy_ . She had _punched_ him when they were thirteen. She could apologize with no issue. The worst he could do would be to call her a Mudblood or tell her to go away.)

She approached him slowly, Malfoy not reacting, too engrossed in writing whatever it was he was writing. She cleared her throat quietly, Malfoy sitting up straight to look up at her. 

“May I sit?” she asked quietly. Malfoy shrugged, waving his hand dismissively at an empty chair before going back to his homework. 

“Is that the Transfiguration essay?” she asked after a brief silence. 

Malfoy looked surprised that she was talking, but he set his quill down to look at her. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, it is. Can I help you, Granger? Come to bother me because you’re bored?”

Hermione suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She came here to thank him, and he was already being the annoying pompous ass he usually was. She steeled herself, taking a deep breath before she “accidentally” hexed him into next week. 

“I never thanked you for last time.”

“Last time?”

“In the classroom. I never thanked you for saving me.”

Malfoy shrugged, picking up his quill and writing again. 

“It was nothing,” he finally replied after a few seconds. The quill scratching parchment filled the quietness of the room. “You didn’t have to thank me.”

“I wanted to!” Hermione blurted out. “You got hurt because of me, and that seemed unfair.”

“I heal quickly,” was all Malfoy said. He didn’t say anything else, and even Hermione could pick up on his cue that he was done with the conversation. She stood up, muttering another _thank you_ before she went back to her seat. She finished her rough draft in little time, and as she packed her books, she couldn’t help but glance over at Malfoy. He was gone already, no stack of books or parchment on his table and his seat neatly pushed in. She hadn’t even noticed when he left (not that she cared), and she couldn’t help but feel oddly saddened. 

—

Hermione somehow managed to befriend Malfoy. 

She didn’t know when it started to happen, but she was positive it was when she thanked him in the library. Since that interaction, Hermione made it her mission to start to talk to him. Maybe it was out of pity, or maybe she started to realize that Malfoy wasn’t as bad as she originally thought he was, but she _liked_ talking to him. 

It was a slow process, and it took her a few weeks to get him to open up to her. She would purposefully arrive at the library later than usual, and if Malfoy was there already, she would go up to him and ask if she could sit there. She was positive he would say no, or maybe he was too polite to say no, but he always let her. And so, a new routine started. They would study together, and sometimes even help each other with homework. However, their conversations were always short and only focused on schoolwork, but it was a start. 

The most surprising part was that Malfoy was the one who started the conversation about something other than school first. They were studying for a Potions quiz when Malfoy asked her about _Ron_ of all people. 

“So, Weasley and the Brown girl?”

Hermione stopped writing, then scoffed and returned to her essay. 

“What about them?”

“Pure curiosity,” he said. 

“She’s only with him because he’s suddenly popular. Everyone knows it; seems Ronald’s the only one who hasn’t gotten the memo.”

Malfoy _laughed_ , something Hermione had never heard before. It was progress and another milestone in her book. 

_—_

They were officially friends now, though they never made it a public thing. They ignored each other in the Great Hall and when they were in classes, but they always acknowledged each other’s presence with the tiniest nod. No one ever picked up on it, and thus there was never any suspicion surrounding them. Not even Harry or Ron noticed, but to be fair, they were some of the least observant people Hermione had ever met. 

The Astronomy Tower became their new meet up spot. Malfoy, who over time became Draco, had sent her an owl asking her to meet up there around midnight. Hermione agreed immediately, and if she used her Prefect privileges to do so, well, it was nobody’s business but her own. They met up as often as they could, and Hermione felt _giddy_ every time they did. It was fun breaking the rules as she lived her muggle teenager lifestyle. 

Every time they met up, Hermione learned something new about Draco that was on a more personal level than before. She listened to his stories about his childhood and what it was like to grow up at Malfoy Manor, and he listened to her stories about growing up in Muggle London. They discussed their goals and aspirations, and she found out Draco wanted to open his own potions shop or become an Auror—a surprise for Hermione. They talked about anything and everything from extraterrestrial life to their favorite color to the concept of reincarnation. 

Oddly enough, they never discussed the war currently brewing on the horizon. It was as if they resided in a little bubble where the end of the world didn’t exist, and it was _beautiful_ . It was just _them_. No Malfoy or Granger, no Order or Voldemort, no Pureblood or Mudblood differences. 

It was just _Hermione_ and _Draco._

They could’ve been friends in another life, but the universe was funny that way. 

-

“I’m a Death Eater,” Draco stated calmly.

They were lying next to one another on the floor of the tower, their legs dangling over the edge. It was a cool spring night, and the breeze felt nice against Hermione’s legs. She was in her pajamas, Draco as well, though he had given up his jumper when he felt her shiver despite her protests. 

Hermione’s breathing ceased, but then she exhaled slowly. Oddly enough, she wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Maybe more shocked that he willingly admitted it. She turned to look at him, studying his profile. She had finally come to terms that she found him attractive, but anyone would. He was all smooth skin and high cheekbones and plump lips and grey eyes. 

It was quiet for a bit, Draco giving her time to process his words. Instead of replying, she giggled. Draco turned towards her, his eyes glistening in the moonlight. 

“That’s an odd reaction Granger,” he said. 

“I’m so sorry, but Harry has been obsessed with the idea that you’re a Death Eater this entire school year. I can’t believe he was right.”

Her giggles ceased, and they just stared at one another. It was just them in their now shattered bubble of comfort surrounded by stars. He had broken their little unspoken rule, but she couldn’t help the overwhelming sense of sadness that came over her. They were living a lie, and she knew that sooner or later they would have to face reality. 

“When did it happen?” she finally asked.

“Over the summer. Father thought it was time.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Not really? I don’t remember most of it anyway. I think _him_ prying into my mind hurt more than receiving the mark itself.”

Hermione hesitated with her next question, but she was curious. 

“May I see it?” 

Her voice was quiet and almost inaudible, but Draco heard her. He raised his left arm between them and pulled back his sleeve, revealing the swirling black ink. Hermione just stared, reaching out slowly but then retreating. Draco nodded at her, the unspoken permission passing between them. 

She reached for it again, gently holding his forearm in her hand. It felt almost surreal looking at the tattoo, but it helped her accept the fact that this was real and not some hallucination. She stroked her thumb over it, Draco flinching just slightly but not pulling away. The skin was smooth, the mark seamlessly connected to him. Hermione gave it a final once over before she retreated. He pulled his sleeve back and placed his arm back behind his head. 

“Did you have a choice?”

“At the time I thought it was the right thing to do. Now, I don’t know.”

“Do you have a mission to do for him?”

Hermione noted Draco’s hesitation.

“Yes.”

“Can I know?”

“No.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over them, but Hermione pressed no further. She turned on her side, ignoring the cold stone digging into her hip and placing her head on her hand. She leaned into him and reached for his right hand, intertwining their fingers together. His hand was considerably larger and paler compared to hers. 

“The Order can help you,” she whispered. 

Draco was silent, just staring at the stars above them. To her astonishment, tears began to form in his eyes. They fell down slowly, leaving track marks in their wake. She didn’t know what to say, so she waited for him to reply. 

“No one can help me,” he whispered, his voice cracking towards the end. 

“The Order _can_ ,” Hermione whispered back urgently.

“They _can’t,_ Granger. Who would want to help Death Eater scum?

“Draco they’re good people. They wouldn’t bat an eye.”

“And my parents? They’re no saints either. What happens to them?”

“They can help them too. You’re not alone.”

Draco didn’t reply after that. Instead, he just continued to stare at the sky, the tears never stopping. Hermione watched as he inhaled deeply, holding his breath before exhaling slowly. He sat up, gently grabbing her hand and pulling her up next to him. She didn’t know what to expect next, but then Draco pulled her into him, wrapping his arms tightly around her body and burrowing his face into his chest. She didn’t hear his sobs, but she felt the way he shook in her arms. 

Draco Malfoy looked so pathetic in her arms, something she never thought she would ever witness. He wasn’t the Malfoy she had met years ago. He was _Draco_ now, and he had fallen off his pedestal so long ago. She couldn’t do anything except just hold him softly as he wept his heart out in front of her. She couldn’t help the tears burning in her eyes, yet they never fell the longer they continued to sit there, wrapped in each other’s presence in a private corner of their world. 

“He wants me to kill Dumbledore,” Draco whimpered. “He’ll kill my parents and me if I fail, but I just can’t. I’m not a murderer, Hermione.”

Hermione felt her heart break at that moment, and the tears began to fall. 

—

They never talked about that night in the tower. However, their friendship reached a deeper level. They talked about more personal things now. She told him stuff she would’ve never told Harry and Ron. 

Often times they would just cry. It was their only moment of privacy where they could be open and raw and vulnerable. They didn’t have to wear their masks around each other.

-

Dumbledore died a few days later, and Hermione knew for a fact all hope was lost. 

She also knew a part of her died that same day.

—

When Harry revealed that it was Snape who had killed Dumbledore, relief flooded over Hermione. 

The funeral was a few days later, everyone in attendance except for the students who had left Hogwarts early, Draco, and Snape. The ceremony was beautiful, and she, Harry, and Ron stayed behind to pay their own personal respects. Harry went first, and Hermione found herself spacing out. She stared down at the tomb, and then back at the castle. She noticed movement in the corner of her eyes, and her eyes flicked to the forest, a shadow quickly retreating behind one of the trees. 

“Draco?” she murmured to herself. 

“Did you say something, ‘Mione?” Ron asked her, looking at where she was staring at. 

“Nothing,” she replied. She must have imagined it.

Ron pulled her into a hug, and she let him, wrapping her arms tightly around him and burrowing her face into his chest. He kissed her softly, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel her heart break quietly. 

—

_Draco_

Granger had been their prisoner for a few days now. Despite how often he denied their connection, his control over Vee slipped daily. Because although he denied Granger being his mate, he was still part Veela, and that side didn’t care about how he felt. He knew deep down that what his Veela side was what he subconsciously also knew, but it would be a cold day in hell before he ever admitted that. He constantly denied Vee, and it was taking a toll on him. The last thing he needed was Vee to be in control and screw everything up. 

Granger was the _enemy_ , their goddamn _prisoner._

She was nothing to him. 

He carried on like nothing ever happened between them. He treated her like he had for the past few years. He forced himself into his bullying mindset, and it made it bearable when it came to torture. 

Granger was going to be the Dark Lord’s secret weapon, and all they needed was time. A little bit of manipulation and reconditioning, and she would be the Order’s demise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was like half flashbacks but they are crucial for the next few chapters. we need some context, and honestly writing about hermione and draco being friends is quite fun ! shit gets real the next chapter so i hope y'all are ready

**Author's Note:**

> my first fanfiction in a while and im so nervous omg. anyway i hope this chapter was enjoyable. it should be edited right, but i might've missed some stuff teehee. this is also posted on wattpad and ff.net so don't come after me for plagiarism


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